


I ❤ NY

by ShippersList



Series: Trope Train [1]
Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Humor, M/M, Trope: drunk!fic, Valentine's Day, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3334049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/pseuds/ShippersList
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once in his life, Dean would’ve wanted things go like he’d planned. Like, him and Cas having a romantic Valentine’s Day weekend in New York, just the two of them.</p><p>Then they met the Avengers, and somehow the whole gang ended up in a beach. Also, there were sparkly drinks and marshmallows involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I ❤ NY

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naoe/gifts).



> This is for Naoe. I hope it makes you smile. ;)
> 
> Thanks to Bottlebabe for grammar check.

[](http://imgur.com/A1LIQyJ)

 

Clint perched in his nest, watching the two men walking slowly along the sidewalk like they were tourists or honeymooners. Honeymooners, more likely, at least considering the dopey smiles they gave each other every now and then and how their hands brushed way too often to be accidental. They looked completely ordinary, the other in jeans and a leather jacket; the other in a suit and a flasher. Or they would’ve looked ordinary to someone who wasn’t accustomed to searching for the unusual in others.

Which was the reason why it wasn’t exactly a wonder that, despite all their relaxed poses, everything about them screamed ’danger’ and ’alien’ to Clint. He couldn’t point it out, but it wasn’t his business to determine the exact species of all the crazy the Avengers came across anyway. His job was to observe and shoot, and not necessarily in that order.

It was Valentine’s day, and Clint would’ve wanted to be somewhere else than in his nest. Like kissing the hell out of Coulson, for example. They had only recently given in to the attraction that had been there for years, and Clint had had plans for the evening. Obviously the plans had changed, and you couldn’t really blame Clint for being a bit pissed, could you?

So Clint sat, stared, seethed, and waited either of the targets to make one wrong move, because he was just so sick of this shit.

 

* * *

 

This was really nice. Like, awesome nice. Dean was strolling down the streets of New York with his angel, and, for once in his life, having a vacation. With his angel. On Valentine’s Day. It was fucking _awesome._

They had left Sam in Gabe-duty, because ever since the archangel had returned from wherever he had been, things had been a little chaotic. In every Gabe-sense of the word. Which meant that he and Dean were constantly at each other’s throats, Gabriel picking at Dean’s issues and Dean hiding all the sweets and porn. Not that it did that much good against an archangel, but a man got to try, right? So, now he was in NY. With Cas. On a vacation. It sounded almost too good to be true.

Which was, perhaps, the reason he wasn’t surprised at all, when Cas said, ”I believe we’re being observed.”

Dean sighed and rubbed his face. Had it been too much to ask to have one fucking weekend off? Obviously.

”What and where,” he murmured, as he turned to kiss Cas, scanning the perimeter at the same time.

”Men in black, several on the ground level, several on roof tops.”

”Okay, where are K and J?”

The angel frowned. ”Who?”

Dean shook his head fondly and pecked a kiss on his angel’s lips. ”Never mind. Do I need to worry?”

Cas rolled his eyes and gave him a fond smile. ”Of course not.”

Dean shrugged. ”Just checking.”

They walked on; just waiting for the shit hit the fan, which happened when they entered a clearing that was suspiciously empty. Dean glanced at Cas with a slightly raised brow, because, really? _So_ obvious. They stopped, kept their postures at ease and faces calm. Or, Dean kept; Cas was scowling and smitey as usual. He was also standing a bit sideways to Dean, keeping an eye on everything, ready to jump in action on slightest provocation.

It was kinda hot.

They heard footsteps from ahead of them, and a nondescript man wearing an impeccable suit and a pleasant, small smile walked towards them. He was so pointedly bland-looking that he was most likely able to, like, kill people with his tie.

”Good day, gentlemen,” the Suit greeted and stopped in a few feet in front of them. ”Enjoying your stay in New York?”

”We’re having a splendid time. Right, Cas?” Dean quipped, assessing his surroundings.

Cas stared at the man, tilted his head a little, and then said, ”I wouldn’t recommend that.”

The Suit blinked.

”The man growling through the earpiece sounds very much like you, Dean,” Cas continued.

The Suit blinked again. ”Hawkeye, stand down,” he said.

Dean snorted. ”Hawkeye? Seriously? Where’s Spiderman?”

”At school.”

Dean blinked.

There was movement behind the man. Dean blinked several times more, because — no way. It was like Captain America, some bloke in a cape, and the Iron Man were scooping into the clearing. Or, actually Cap and the cape-man scooped in, Iron Man sorta floated around. But it really was the Hulk that made it.

”Oh this is just precious,” Dean hooted, and burst in laughter. ”The others would’ve probably been pretty okay-ish, but the angry green man? Perfect. _Gabriel!”_

The cosplayers moved closer, and, yeah. They were pretty good. Gabriel had really perfected his thing this time.

”Dean,” Cas said carefully. ”The green giant is not natural.”

”No shit, Cas,” Dean chuckled and raised his chin. _”Gabriel!”_ He bellowed again.

The Suit was watching them with polite interest, but when Gabe popped in beside them, his eyes widened. The cosplayers froze.

”Dean-o, missed me already?” Gabe crooned before he glanced around and stopped to stare at the Hulk. ”Okay, that boy has eaten his oatmeal.”

The cape-man took a step closer. ”Loki?”

So, this is what happened next: Gabriel turned sharply and took a step towards the bloke in a cape, there was a whirring sound, a crackle of thunder, and Gabe was gone.

Dean raised his brow at Cas who shrugged. The Suit blinked several times, and the people behind him burst into animated conversation. Then Gabriel was back, with a passenger. He shoved his catch towards the man in the impeccable suit, but his haul merely made an elaborated duck-swing-swirl-crouch that eventually put him beside the Suit. Dean gave an appreciative nod at the moves, even though the guy was dressed as Katniss with the bow and everything.

”Don’t bother, Thor,” Gabriel snapped, keeping his eyes at the Suit.

The cape-man ignored him and strode purposefully closer with an angry scowl. ”You are an impostor!” He boomed, jabbing a finger at Gabe’s direction.

Gabriel smirked. ”I prefer to be called as a stand-in.” His eyes were glittering dangerously.

”Okay, would someone _please_ explain this, Steve’s getting confused,” came a voice from the floating red armor.

”Shut up, Stark,” said the man in Captain America costume.

It was all nine kinds of hilarious, but Dean would want to be in their hotel room already, fucking his angel stupid. He was about to open his mouth and point some things out, when Cas whirled around in full smiting mode.

”Don’t touch my Dean,” he growled lowly to someone behind them. When Dean turned around, he was face to face with a stunning red-haired woman who looked at him with murder in her eyes.

”Territorial, much?” Gabe quipped.

”Your Dean?” Dean murmured amusedly.

”They interrupted our romantic weekend,” Cas grumbled.

”You do have a possessive streak a mile wide,” Dean reminded him. ”Don’t try to deny it.”

”I love you too, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes at Cas’s smug smile and turned to face the Suit man.

”So, how’s your weekend been so far?”

 

* * *

 

To be honest, Clint had no idea what was happening. He had been keeping an eye on things, as usual, and then some guy had popped beside the targets. When Thor had called the man Loki, Clint had reacted purely on instinct. He hadn’t exactly expected to end up being held from his throat by the pop-in guy the moment he had released his arrow. A move like that should’ve been impossible, but then they were down with the others and the guy shoved Clint towards Coulson. Clint used the momentum to spin into an easy position by Coulson’s side. And then things got weird.

Thor had started to banter with the guy like he knew him, and the flasher-clad guy stopped Tasha sneaking up on the leather-jacket one, which was just plain crazy: you _couldn’t_ stop a sneaking Black Widow. Clint rolled his shoulders and waited for the purple giraffes float from around the corner.

He got Fury instead.

”Could someone explain what the _fuck_ is going on here?”

”We have visitors,” Coulson reported calmly, but Clint knew his handler and saw that he was shaken. Well, as much as Coulson  _could_ be shaken, anyway.

Fury turned his impassive stare at the group standing in front of Tasha and raised his brow.

”Dean Winchester. Well, this is a surprise.”

Okay, _what?_

The leather-jacket snorted. ”Tell me about it. Especially about the fact that you know my name.”

Fury rolled his eye. ”Of course I know. And these must be your angels. Where’s your brother?”

”Otherwise occupied,” Winchester answered while the guy who had snatched Clint huffed an indignant ”I’m not _his.”_

For a moment, Fury just watched Winchester. Clint had to give the man some credit for not cowing under Fury’s stare. Then the Director made an annoyed noise.

”I think we should remove this discussion to a more discreet place,” he commented flatly, and glanced pointedly at the surrounding buildings.

The snatcher perked up. ”I agree!”

It was the only warning they got, and then the air _shifted_ oddly and they were on a beach, clad in high-water shorts, obnoxious Hawaii shirts and leis — including Fury and excluding Tasha, who was in a white bikini, but still managed to look like the mean lean killing machine she was. They all had rather disturbing looking drinks in their hands, and there was a kon-tiki themed bar just a couple of feet away. Clint stifled a hysterical giggle and decided to roll with the crazy.

”What were you doing in New York?” Fury asked, not even a little bothered by the change of scenery or the fact that he was holding a pink drink decorated with a sparkling stick.

”We’re on a vacation.”

”Oh really?”

”Really.”

 _”Really,”_ Clint’s snatcher agreed with a feeling. ”They came to New York to have some time off and fuck like rabbits for three days straight. And now you’ve ruined it, and my brother’s irritated.” He sipped his drink and smacked his lips appreciatively. ”Not a good idea to irritate an angel, you know. Especially when said angel is pent up with sexual frustration.”

”Gabriel,” the flasher reprimanded with an exasperated air.

Clint couldn’t help himself. ”Gabriel? Like, the archangel Gabriel?”

The snatcher cocked his head and winked. ”Gotcha.”

Clint stared. Looked at Fury. Looked back at the — Gabriel. Turned to look at Winchester and the other —  _not an angel for fuck’s sake!_

”So, who are you? Lucifer?”

The flasher didn’t move, but the air around him was suddenly charged. Clint absolutely did NOT flinch at the almost visible power crackling around the guy.

”Cas, don’t. He’s just confused.” Winchester had his hand on the guy’s arm. ”I stuck a knife on your chest when we first met, remember?”

 _Kinky,_ Clint blinked. There was some murmuring going on between the two, and then the flasher’s cheeks got a little pink, Winchester grinned, and, okay, Clint _was_ a little intrigued.

”I’m Castiel, Angel of the Lord, and the angel of Thursday.”

”Thursday? That makes you Thor’s angel then!”

Yeah, trust Stark not to keep his mouth shut.

Castiel bristled. ”I’m Dean’s angel,” he snapped, and Winchester whispered something in his ear again.

The Avengers were silent, except for Stark, but Stark didn’t count. Once more the task of pointing out the obvious fell on Clint.

”Do you honestly expect us to believe that we’re standing on a magical beach with two Christian angels, from which the other is the archangel Gabriel himself?”

Fury gave him an unimpressed stare. ”Do you honestly expect that statement to hold any kind of value, considering you fight alongside mutants, a genetically enhanced super soldier, a green rage monster, and a Norse god of thunder? Oh yeah, and a man in a tin can,” he added at the offended huff from Stark.

”But… _angels!”_ Clint flailed his hands, trying to make a point.

”Oh, for the love of Dad...” Gabriel muttered and snapped his fingers at his brother. Castiel didn’t look too happy, but took a couple of steps away from Winchester, and the Avengers tensed a little. Then the air around the two angels shimmered, and they unfurled their massive wings. Clint forgot to breathe and stared open-mouthed at the huge appendages stretching high and wide, swaying gently. He had the distant feeling that the wings weren’t exactly _real,_ but it didn’t diminish the experience.

”That’s so hot,” he heard Winchester whisper hoarsely. Clint shifted his stare from the wings to the enamored pair who had lost themselves in each other’s eyes. Then Castiel gave a sort of a whole body shudder and wrapped his wings around them both. It was pretty much impossible to miss the sound of enthusiastic making out from inside the plumage.

”Was this enough for you, Katniss? Or would you like some harps and the Heavenly Choir as well?”

Clint decided that Gabriel was a dick.

Fury cleared his throat and rolled his eye. ”Now, with that settled, we should get back to the — Winchester, cut it out!”

The only answer was a finger that emerged from between the inky black feathers, suspiciously low for a man as tall as —  _oh._

Clint giggled.

 

* * *

 

Dean was cradled safely within Cas’s wings, his angel contentedly purring against his back. Blowing Cas had placated the angel nicely after the retarded remarks about Lucy and Thor’s angel. But to be honest, perhaps he should be thankful for the jabs: Dean wasn’t sure he could’ve been able to keep his hands off Cas anyway, because, _wings._ He had seen them only a couple of times over the years, and, before today, only as shadows. Something about this pocket Gabriel had created in between realities made the wings corporeal, and it did serious things to Dean.

He should ask Cas if he could create them a pocket of their own. Fuck NY at Valentine’s — he’d take this beach pocket anytime. Without the garnish, of course. The wings surrounding him shivered, and Dean was pretty sure Cas had read his mind. He grinned and leaned his head onto Cas’s shoulder.

The cosplayer team was a bit of a loss, but recovering quickly. The black Cyclops was completely at ease with his lei and drink, talking calmly with the no-longer-in-the-impeccable-suit man. The Hulk was chewing his lei, but perhaps he was a vegetarian. The Captain America look-a-like was frowning at his attire, while the guy that had been inside the Iron Man armor was chugging down every available drink from the bar. Katniss was standing a bit on the side with the bikini-chick, staring suspiciously at Dean. Dean waved at them happily, and was answered with two sets of narrowed eyes.

”Where’s Gabe?”

”I believe he went to get Sam,” Cas answered and nipped the side of Dean’s neck.

”What?!” Dean sputtered, scrambling around to look at Cas. ”Why?”

”He said something about Sam being a fan,” Cas shrugged and gave Dean a dry look. ”I wasn’t exactly paying attention.” And, okay, Cas perhaps had had a good reason to be distracted. If not, there was something seriously wrong with Dean’s technique.

With a flutter and a pop, Gabe was back, a bewildered Sam in tow. The archangel sauntered over the Captain America look-a-like to make introductions, but Dean suspected Sam didn’t really hear any of it, too busy with staring wide-eyed at the Hulk. Time for some brotherly intervention, Dean sighed and stepped away from Cas’s wings. He instantly missed the cocoon, but decided they could probably repeat the experience later on.

”Sammy! Welcome to the crazyland!” He waved at his brother, who turned to look at him with slightly panicked eyes. Dean stole a look at the clothes he was wearing and sighed out of relief when he saw that they were his own.

”Dean,” his brother stage-whispered. ”What the hell is going on?!”

”I have no friggin’ clue, but I saw Cas’s wings!”

Sam blinked and glanced at Cas, who was standing still with a serene expression, his wings gently swaying back and forth. ”What… Okay, why he’s so _placid?”_

Dean waved his hand dismissively. ”Katniss said something stupid about Cas being Lucy and I promised to blow him in exchange for him not smiting anyone.”

Sam blinked again. ”You —  _what?”_

”I did.”

”What?”

”Blow him. It always makes him so amiable, you know.”

”Dean — no. I’m not having this conversation with you,” Sam made some interesting noises and pinched the base of his nose with his fingers. It was always such fun to watch his reactions to Dean and Cas’s antics.

”Okay, why are you in your own clothes?” Katniss had trudged closer and was staring at Dean with accusatory air.

”Perks of banging an angel of the Lord,” Dean answered airily. ”Gabe doesn’t dare to do too much to me because of Cas.”

Sam snorted.

”I said, ’too much,’ Sam”

”Define 'too much'.”

”Okay, Gabe doesn’t dare baring too much of my skin because it sets Cas off. He’s a possessive sonovabitch, you know.”

Sam stared at him with something akin to desperation. ”I hate you,” he muttered, and turned to walk towards the bar.

”Really?” Katniss asked.

Dean nodded and grinned. ”Yeah. He looks more like an accountant, but… man, he's a badass.”

Katniss cocked his head and looked at him speculatively. ”I think I know what you mean,” he said and shot a glance at the no-longer-Suit. Dean followed his gaze. The man in question didn’t pause his conversation with the Cyclops, but his eyes turned instantly to asses them. They were sharp and intelligent, and there was something powerful about the man. If Dean didn’t have Cas, he would’ve _definitely_ been interested.

”I see,” Dean said, and he did. ”Dean,” he said and held out his hand.

”Clint,” Katniss nodded and shook his hand. ”Also known as Hawkeye.”

”Really?”

”Really. The others are Steve, a.k.a Captain America; Stark, who will gladly remind you over and over again that he’s Iron Man; The Hulk, who’s actually a nervous guy named Bruce; and Thor, who’s… uh, Thor. And then there’s Tasha, but I wouldn’t recommend going near her.” Clint paused. ”But then, somehow I don’t think you will.”

Dean grinned. ”True. Bar?”

”Hell, yeah.”

They started towards the bar, Cas drifting behind them. Gabe was talking with Cyclops and Clint’s Suit, Stark was still trying to drain the bar (an endeavor doomed to fail, because, _Hello, Gabriel),_ and the Hulk was carefully wading his way in the shallow water. Sam had wandered off to Cap and the mysterious murder-lady to do some serious fangirling, but Dean guessed that Sam really couldn’t help himself, the giant nerd he was.

Stark offered them some sparkly drinks that probably were just fine for Cas and Sam, but Dean would've preferred something less... pink. Anyway, he was too much of a gentleman to complain about free booze. And, after he had nearly burned his tonsils off with the amount of alcohol in the drink, he decided that the looks could be pretty fucking deceiving. At least when it came to Stark’s drinks made with Gabe's booze.

”So, superheroes?” He wheezed, after he had regained the feeling and function of his tongue and throat. ”How is it?”

”Loud,” Clint said and drowned his drink in one go. Dean followed suit, only to choke in his drink. Clint gave him a wolfish grin and patted his back, which wasn’t condescending like, at all.

”Dean, this drink looks pretty and gives a pleasant tingling to my throat,” Cas pondered from beside him, studying his glass with a concentrated frown.

Stark raised a brow. ”Tingling?” He said slowly, narrowing his eyes. ”I’ll give you some tingling,” Stark promised, and set on the task of mixing an impressive amount of drinks.

With growing amusement, Dean observed Stark’s attempts to produce a drink strong enough to knock Cas out. He seemed to have too much fun for Dean to act as a spoilsport and inform him that he really wasn’t going to succeed.

After some time, some more drinks, and still sober Cas, there was a commotion behind them.

”Come celebrate, my friends!” Thor bellowed from the bonfire, because of course there was a bonfire at the beach party.

”Oh! S’mores!” Dean exclaimed, and lurched towards the fire. Never gonna miss a chance for s’mores.

 

* * *

 

”Having fun?”

Clint was pleasantly buzzed and used that as an excuse to give Coulson a brilliant smile. He was very, very satisfied to see Coulson blink and lick his lips.

”You look dashing in that shirt,” he answered. ”…sir,” he added after a pause.

”Don’t push it, Barton,” Coulson warned, but his eyes crinkled just so. He took a seat beside Clint (who had no idea where the bar stools had sprouted up, because, well, _angels),_ sighed, and picked up one of the drinks Stark had prepared before passing out.

”Who are they?” Clint asked after a moment.

”Hunters of the supernatural,” Coulson answered and gave him a wry smile. ”And don’t even think about protesting. After all the things we’ve been dealing with, supernatural creatures shouldn't surprise you.”

”Yeah, but… _angels._ Really?”

”We have a Norse god in our team,” Coulson reminded.

”But that’s different, and — okay, never mind.” Clint shook his head. ”What was all that arguing about an impostor?”

Coulson sipped his drink and made a face. ”Apparently Gabriel had been AWOL for a long, long time and had lived as Loki while the real Loki had been away who knows where. Thor recognized the leftover magic Gabriel had been using and made assumptions. But it seems they’re alright now.”

It did. Thor and Gabriel were sitting side by side by a large bonfire, singing Norse drinking songs. Stark had passed out by the bar and Dean’s angel was petting a pink decorative umbrella in his hands with a dreamy expression that Clint wasn’t sure was a leftover from his blowjob or an actual effect of the massive amount of alcohol Stark had poured into him. Dean, on the other hand, was making s’mores and serving them to the Hulk, who seemed to like them quite much. Dean’s brother (Sam?) was talking animatedly to Steve, while Tasha stood beside him, eyeing him like he wanted to devour him whole. Clint could well understand that, because Sam Winchester was a hot piece of ass. Not as hot as Phil, though.

”You think I’m a hot piece of ass?”

Clint drowned his drink. ”I have no idea what you’re talking about, _sir,”_ he said, because no fucking way was he going to admit he had said it aloud.

”Yeah, as if,” Stark snorted, because even when supposedly passed out, Stark still didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

”Shut up, Stark,” Coulson said mildly.

Clint swallowed, because, yeah. Coulson was watching him with that small almost-smile and The Look that always made Clint’s knees a bit weak.

”Wanna go sit by the fire?” Clint managed, a bit hoarsely.

Coulson shook his head very, very slowly, never breaking the eye contact. He downed his drink, stood slowly up and crooked his finger at Clint, who was suddenly feeling like a teenage girl on her first date. Meaning a blushing, innocent virgin, which Clint most definitely was not.

”I’m exactly where I want to be,” Coulson murmured and yanked Clint into a kiss.

 

* * *

 

Nick Fury drowned his drink and hissed at the burn. Damn, but that angel could mix a mean drink! He looked around and rolled his eye at his team and the two hunters sprawled around the beach. Coulson was sitting with his back against the bar, with Barton practically on his lap (about time those two to get their act together), and Stark was passed out behind the bar, clutching a bottle of something sparkly and pink. The Hulk was eating marshmallows by the bonfire, while Thor was supposedly composing a love song to his Lady Jane. Or perhaps to his hammer, who the hell knew. Steve was still talking to the starstruck younger Winchester, and, for some very disturbing reason, Black Widow was stroking the hunter’s hair. The older Winchester was further away with his angel, both completely wrapped inside the wings again. Fury turned his head away, because he _really_  didn't want to know what was going on over there.

”Well, this has been a blast.”

Fury glanced at the archangel who seemed to have acquired a full bottle of extremely high-quality vintage whiskey from somewhere. Gabriel raised it in an inquiring gesture, and Fury lowered his glass to get a drink. It was damn good.

”Different, at least.”

Gabriel hummed a noncommittal sound and took a hearty pull from the bottle. ”They won’t say yes, by the way.”

Fury raised a brow. ”You don’t even know what I was about to ask.”

”Hello, _archangel,”_ Gabriel singsonged.

”Everybody has a price.”

”Mmm… you might have some trouble with these two. Because they’ve survived two pissed-off archangels, averted apocalypse, died and come back several times and survived Hell. The literal, actual Hell, not the metaphorical personal growth kind." Gabriel paused, before he continued with an innocent, "But, of course, if you asked nicely…”

Fury gave the angel a flat stare and was countered with a grin with way too much teeth in it.

”I don’t have time for this shit.”

”Actually, Director, you have all the time in the world,” Gabriel answered sweetly. ”See, this little pocket of mine exist outside your reality. Which means that, when I return us to your time and place, I can choose _any_ time and place I want.”

”I see.”

”Excellent! More whiskey?”

Fury nodded and received another glass of the prime quality whiskey. He sipped his drink and decided to enjoy what was left of the evening. He could think a way to lure the Winchesters into the SHIELD later.


End file.
